Day 210: I’d Rather Just Buy A Pizza [Friday Thoughts W/ TeeCoZee]
Good Moleman. No, I don’t eat any food that comes from an animal. That’s well and good for sheep, but what are we to do? It’s Friday, April 16th, Twenty-Twenty-Three-Minus-Four-Plus-Two. The weather in Queens is 50˚ & Pantone 9D9693 [but also 11-4201 and 14-4123] and somewhere, somebody is playing MLB The Show 21. They’re probably playing some conquest, racking up some team affinity points and trying to level up their Pedro Martinez. Maybe they’re ripping some packs or getting upset at some conquest missions. Maybe they’re schooling some new Xbox n00bs with an all-common team. Little do they realize, their weekend is not going to get any better than this. And me? I’m just constantly refreshing my FedEx tracking, waiting for it to arrive. I forgot how much better buying digital is. Good God. Welp. I guess while I wait, I have some other things on my mind…
– I don’t understand pizza culture. And I’m not talking about the type of people that wash it down with Mountain Dew while playing Tony Hawk. Those are my people. I’m talking about the weird subculture of self-congratulatory fuckwads who make “artisanal” pizza at home. There’s a difference between homemade pizza and artisanal pizza. Homemade pizza is what my Mom used to make because it was cheaper than Little Caesers. It’s easy to feed a family of 4 when the box of dough costs 25 cents. She could make 2 jumbo rectangle pies for like 5 bucks. And you know what? It was fucking delicious. Thanks, Mom.
The artisanal homemade pizza that I’m referring to is a much different beast. If you ever browsed the r/Pizza subreddit, you’d know exactly who I’m talking about. These people bust their ass to make their pizza from absolute scratch. They experiment with dough formulas, age their sauces in dank cellars for years, grow their own basil, raise the pigs themselves free-range and then self cure the meat for pepperoni and travel 50 miles each way to buy the special local mozzarella straight from the barrel. They also spent $500+ on a backyard pizza oven because you definitely need a backyard pizza oven. How else are you going to get that woodfire pizza flavor that you can definitely distinguish from other heating methods? Fuck outta here, accept no substitutes! These doughwads spend an infinite amount of time, money and energy on their pizza and then it ends up looking like this:
Congratulations, asshole. You just played yourself. Hope you have 3 more pizzas waiting, because this little baby pie is not going to feed your family. Also, your pizza is outside and you live in Iowa. That shit is cold the second it leaves the oven. And good luck opening the door to your house with a giant pizza ladle in your hand. Mosquitoes are already fucking under your pepperoni. There’s already pathogens galore, especially since you refused to give your pigs antibiotics when they needed them. Also, your crust is burnt, because you prefer to set things on fire. Meanwhile, your family is already calling Papa Johns, because at least that Dad can promptly deliver an ample amount of pizza. You’re being cucked by Papa John. Get your life in order, man.
I realize that I’m being over-critical, but I truly feel like they deserve it. Pizza is supposed to be fun and lazy. It’s for underpaid High Schoolers to throw together and deliver to your stoned ass. And you know what? It’s good that way! You don’t need to work hard for good pizza. You can just buy it from people that are more equipped to make it. Watching TV is generally enjoyable. But you know what sounds better? If you took the script to your favorite show, tweaked the script just a little bit, audition a bunch of actors to fill the cast, hire a crew to shoot the thing, direct and edit the thing yourself, make yourself a bowl of home-dried popcorn and tune in every 10 Thursdays at 8:00. DOESN’T THAT SOUND LIKE FUN?!? Truly, the only way to watch TV.
Some things are better off not being done yourself. No matter how much you can justify that pepperoni cups are better than flat pepperoni, you should probably just leave it to the pros.
– I was at the Mets Team Store because I’m a sucker for a pin and a pack of cards. There were two dudes there that wouldn’t shut up about how they couldn’t wait to get drunk. First off, who shows up at a baseball game stone sober, with the intentions to get drunk? Probably the same people that make their own pizza. One of them spotted a Pete Alonso shirsey that said “ALON20” on the back and loudly got his friend’s attention.
“HEY! What does this say?!?”
“It’s my name!!! This is fate. I’m buying this aren’t I?”
His friend still didn’t really care, so he went on and on about how crazy it was that his name was on some Mets merchandise. I was waiting for his friend to butt in, “Your name’s not Alon. And it’s an old shirt, it says 20”. Unfortunately, it didn’t happen. And I feel sorry for the poor bastards assigned to sit near this guy. He surely flipped his lid when he found out that a Mets player shared the same name as him.
– Conversation I had with Rachel 15 seconds ago:
R: [trying to pick out clothes] I’ve been really into green lately…
T: Me too.
T: Yeah, I’ve been smoking a lot of weed.
R: I don’t know why I ever say anything.
– When I was uploading the picture of the shitty pizza that the dumb dummy made, this uploaded instead:
I don’t know how or why it happened. I don’t even remember taking this picture. It’s obvious that he’s hacked my phone. I’m into having a HackerCat. As long as he doesn’t touch my Dogecoin.
– I just saw the FedEx truck pull up to my building. But then he quickly drove away. I guess I’ll go make a futile attempt to chase it down the street, shaking my fist.
– Try this trick over the weekend: Don’t bother with physical media. It never comes on time and always lets you down.
Have a digital weekend, everyone!